


girls night!!!

by beescreee



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Friendship, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, just jon and helen being buds, trans girl/transfemme jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:38:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24630181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beescreee/pseuds/beescreee
Summary: helen drops in on jon and the two have a girls night in jon's office (ft. trans thoughts from our favorite archvist!)
Relationships: Helen | The Distortion & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	girls night!!!

**Author's Note:**

> howdy!!! this is literally the first fic I've written since like 2016 lol and I couldn't get this idea out of my head so I hope yall like it!!!
> 
> jon is transfemme in this and kept her original name cause gals with masc names are cute as hell

Jon’s never been one for surprises. 

Maybe organization and preplanning have always been baked into Jon or maybe it’s a Beholding effect, slightly nerdy but not exactly monstrous so how can Jon complain?

This is all to say that Jon was now staring at her office door, her yellow office door that certainly was not yellow before, and knew she hadn’t planned for any late-night visits.

A drawn-out sigh and pinched brow later, who else but Helen emerged from the door, her semi-humanoid form dressed as though she was a recent widow with a wildly unequal ratio of money to grief and no idea who killed her husband, she swore. 

Jon kept her eyes on Helen as she, somewhat literally, floated into her office. “Funny to see you, Helen. Invading my office during after work hours is always fun I’m sure, but I was just leaving so if we can do this tomorrow?” Jon says, trying to pack up her purse in the most ‘I’m leaving work faster than you can breathe’ way. 

Helen huffs out a laugh and shakes her head, certain gravity-defying fractals bounce softly with her hair as she approaches Jon. “Now there’s no need for that, I was sent here by Martin and Melanie first and foremost.” Jon raises an eyebrow while staring at Helen’s smiling face equivalent shapes, trying to piece together what Martin and Melanie together would send Helen for. 

Jon’s thoughtful attention turns towards a random space in the office. 

Thinking...

Thinking…

Thinking….

_‘Estrogen… late. Oh shit’_

A static voice of a million voices filled Jon’s ears and she shot up, singular focus twisting back to Helen, a smug aura spiraling around her. Her large, sharp hand pulled out a pill bottle and shook it slightly before throwing it to Jon, who caught it after some fumbling. “Ah… yes, thank you.” Jon thanked, sheepishly.

Helen dismissively waved her long hands in Jon’s direction.

Of course, it was perpetual worrywart Martin, and ‘Caring In Her Own Way’ Melanie. How the two had ended up bonding with Helen, she’d never know. All Jon knew was she’s not the greatest at remembering e day, and apparently, that meant getting cornered by the Spiral.

It didn’t explain Helen’s jazzy yet casual dress up.

Jon paused, looking over the bottle before returning her gaze to Helen’s waiting form. 

“Ah, as much as I hate to sound rude to my favorite living migraine,” Jon snarked while Helen’s smile seemingly got bigger, “I thought you’d be gone by now and if I’m being honest, your stillness worries me just a tad.”

“Oh!” Helen clapped her hands together. “I just thought you and I could have a bit of a girl's night! I did bring my supplies of course.” Jon made a confused noise before looking to her desk that now held a plate of sliced fruits and bottled somethings. The more Jon looked around, the more she realized... was her office cozier somehow?

“Those weren’t there before.” Jon stated flatly, pointing a finger at the spread.

“No, I don't think so,” Helen responded. “Or maybe they were! Who’s to say, Archivist.”

Jon stood still registering Helen’s offer, mouth slightly agape and eyes bouncing from her desk to Helen. 

Jon sighed and resigned herself to her desk, plucking an apple slice from the plate.

* * *

“You know, dear Archivist, I think oranges might be the only tangible food I can taste anymore!”

Helen stated from her sitting spot on Jon’s desk, sharp fingers carefully holding the little orange slice before popping it into her mouth. As Jon swallowed down the pill, a quiet static rang through Jon’s ears. “Did you know the color orange came from the fruit and not the color itself?” Helen simply looked at Jon before plucking another orange. “How interesting and relevant to what I just said.”

“Okay fine...” Jon sighed. “Is it only oranges or just all citrus?” 

Helen thoughtfully tapped a long finger against her chin. “One time with Melanie I consumed some of her nail polish and that had some spice.” 

Jon snorted louder than one would normally think a person could before lightly kicking at one of Helen’s floating geometry. “You both make me ill! You’re like a plague to my sanity.” Helen grabbed the last orange slice.

“Love you too, dear.”

Jon leaned very far back in her chair. “Why do I attract so many unstoppable forces in my life?” 

“Because you’re the beholding’s ultimate immovable object,” Helen started with the fractal confidence of someone saying the sky was blue. “and the universe made me, literal distortion and chaos, your favorite unstoppable force.” 

Jon stared toward the ceiling, she would be the first person to admit that her relationship with Helen (the Spiral?) started strained, mostly because the beginnings started with a curly-haired chaotic neutral who did stab Jon that one time. And Jon was pre-everything and… _strained_ in several areas, if we’re being kind.

It’s funny how different people can become as time passes and scars are gained. Jon and Helen being, literally and figuratively, entirely different than when they first met.

It can also be said how similar you can still be when looking back on your old self but Jon’s not one for looking back on herself, and one can only imagine how that must be for Helen.

Jon thought back on aesthetics instead. Helen’s whole look was an improvement from Michael in that she was more put together, like a garishly colored and sharp business aunt. It’s ridiculous but she pulls it off nicely. 

Jon’s whole look went from grandpa librarian to a hotter librarian, and she has the color pink and estrogen to thank for that, an unfortunate thanks to eldritch gods as well. 

Jon’s face scrunched up at where that line of thought went and instead took a swig from her nearby bottle, which had a fruity burn of some type of alcohol, she could’ve sworn that it was bottled water before when she took her e, but Jon learned not to look a gift god in the mouth.

“Keep your face like that and you’ll end up looking like Gertrude, and that’ll do nothing for either of us, Archivist.”

“And are you telling me looking like ultimate Magnus lesbian Gertrude Robinson would be bad?” Jon rolled her head to smugly look at Helen. 

Helen nodded. “That is true,” Helen cupped what could be her mouth and shouted to whatever ghost could listen. “From a fellow lesbian, I’m sorry Ms. Robinson!”

“There, that should keep her spirit from haunting you,” Jon said, raising her bottle, her attempt to cheers the spirits of the institute.

Helen pinched her temple. “It would be my luck to be haunted by two women of the Eye, wouldn’t it?” Jon chuckled at this. “You talk about ‘unstoppable forces’. Whether living or dead, party pooper ladies of the Eye keep finding me!” 

“Well… well if it means anything I’m here drinking with you rather than at home, or still working, so I should at least get a little credit.” Helen hummed while watching Jon, tracing the rim of her own bottled concoction. Jon just let out a contented sigh, becoming self-aware of the easy smile. 

Jon hadn’t remembered the last time she felt this at ease, maybe the little moments after having a long talk and subsequent coming out to Georgie.

Coming out was maybe one of the easier parts of Jon’s life considering how hard realizing it was. 

All the supernatural fueled trauma was a good way to ignore the nagging idea that simply _being_ made her ill, but busy time can only get one so far. A couple of nights alone with the internet here, and some talks with the resident supportive, competent institute women there… This is a very condensed way to say Jon had found new humanity, in a sense.

An identity slowly built into contented confidence that, Jon in someway believes, helped her get some shit together through its own type of normalcy. Even if she’s still forgetful of her pills, Jon’s improvements since she started her transition could not be understated. 

However, Jon can only celebrate her transition into a mentally better, hot librarian for so long before she remembered her other transition from human to an avatar.

“Your face went through the seven stages of grief while staring at nothing, what’s wrong?” Jon jumped up slightly, Helen startling her out of her daze. 

“Oh! Ah… I, um...” Jon stammered, trying for an excuse. Biting her tongue, Jon started gathering the words. Being better meant letting people in, even if those people are the embodiment of madness. Girls night also meant vent night.

“I was just thinking, and… sorry if this seems out of nowhere.” Helen perked an eyebrow but stayed silent and sat up straighter, sharper. 

“I… I almost hate to say it but, I do find myself somewhat jealous of your lack of a physical body, anxieties, and general… weight of just being present. Bad days and all that.” Jon sighed out the ending, multiple scars flaring up in an itch similar to a bug bite. Jon let the itches simmer and fade. 

“Oh, our dear Archivist, having issues with her constitution? Woes of the flesh?”

“Well, I wouldn’t word it like that exactly, but-.”

“Ah yes, and you are very well versed in wording, my dear.” Helen laughed.

“Right… but yes you’re not wrong. About the flesh woes, that is.” Jon slumped back into her chair.

A beat of silence, Helen knowingly waiting for Jon to continue. 

“If… if you, or Helen, or whatever can remember or… pretend to know what it’s like to have a physical body, could you ah, lend an ear?”

Helen chuckled as the air around Jon goes static, her mind struggling to keep up with Helen’s form and voice. Only able to focus on one, Jon chooses her voice, as hazy ear adjacent looking shapes manifest around Helen, spiraling around the approximate area where her ears would be. 

“I’m all ears, dear Archivist.”

As soon as the geometric ear assault on the senses begins, it’s gone when Jon blinks, shaking her head and sitting up straighter. Jon’s dizziness causing Helen to roll her eyes, or the shapes closest to her eyes.

“Come now you’re a big girl, and I’ve done worse than that to you.” 

“I’m flattered you think I won't bat an eye at literal, half baked, eldritch monsters using their powers on me.” Jon rubbed her eyes before continuing.

“Especially when you know I get seasick easily.”

Helen pats her knee, laughing while silently pushing Jon to continue.

“I suppose just a sort of, ah, general dysphoria? It’s been stressing me out, on top of everything else.”

It was vague but Helen was good with vague.

Jon had spent a while building a type of femininity she could love, less strict about presenting exclusively feminine, in terms of actual identity Jon wouldn’t describe herself as a straight-up woman either. Jon was more of ideas that gave her a sense of euphoria in herself she didn’t have before her transition.

The first point Jon made was to keep her name. After thinking about it, the confidence at being a feminine person with a traditionally masculine name made Jon feel warm. 

Georgie and Melanie also helped by giving her the best advice she’s received, instead of getting overwhelmed by the expectations of performing femininity, it’s easier to pick and choose what makes you happy.

So as time went on Jon began to learn.

Jon loved long skirts, she preferred mary janes and only owned one pair of dress heels. 

Investing in cat-eye frames and glasses chain had been the final chain in keeping Jon tied to her librarian look, as supportive as the people in her life had been, the teasing had been rampant and comforting in away.

Jon became skilled at eyeliner and lipstick, avoiding anything else makeup related. 

Once everything had become routine, she was fine; great even. Especially when losing more, and more control of her life to distant fear gods, the little rituals of applying eyeliner and putting more creativity into her appearance grounded her, somewhat. 

Jon had snapped back into the current by Helen’s voice.

“I’m no one for directness, dear, but if it’s something… simple. We could always ring up the sweet Bone Turner. ”

“Perhaps,” Jon started, unconsciously picking at one of her worm scars. “But I'm not jumping at the chance to have bottom surgery or any more medical appointments in the tunnels by Jared. ” Jon ran her thumb on top of her ribs, her thumb dipping into flesh, still too early for Jon’s liking.

“Then forgive me, dear, it sounds like very normal anxiety. Workplace pressure, let’s say.” Helen waves a hand at Jon, trying to sell that last part. “Very human of you, Archivist.”

Jon knew Helen was trying to calm Jon’s humanity anxieties, she knew Helen cared but the coy smirk could be heard in her voice. 

“Well, even if it’s in your way. Your comfort is very… human of you as well.”

Helen stared at Jon for a beat, her facial fractals softened. Unnoticeable to anyone else but the details inescapable to the Eye. 

While Jon clung to her humanity through kind acts that could be read as desperate on the worst of days and little bathroom rituals of drawing with eyeliner; experimenting with lipstick, Helen embraced her entity's power. Letting the chaos become her stability, her type of comfort.

These viewpoints caused many multiple wine drunk arguments, but two did care and tried to console each other.

Jon knew (and Knew) that the Distortion is a complicated person, but Helen did still care about her humanities and values.

“That’s… kind of you, Jon.” 

Jon’s soft smile stayed on her face as she leaned farther back in her chair. Jon Knew Helen had shook her head slightly, checking the time before stretching and standing from Jon’s desk.

“Well now, I won’t keep you any longer and it seems you need to head home,” Helen stated.

Jon sat up, stretching like Helen as she did (but with more creaking bones then Helen), made her way to her yellow office door.

“Don’t go old and crumbly on me now, Jon.” Helen teased. “And get home safe.”

Jon lightly slapped away one of her floating fractals, regretting it, feeling as though she had a paper cut on the palm of her hand. 

Jon didn’t have to Know that Helen was smirking at her failed teasing retort.

Jon grumbled that classic grumble as she stepped through the threshold, static filling her mind quickly before coming to her senses and realizing she was in her apartment. 

“Goodnight, dear!” Helen called from the other side of the door. “Next time I’ll invite the others!”

“You’ll let me actually _know,_ right?” Jon questioned.

“Nope!” Helen blew Jon a kiss as the door fully shut behind her.

Jon sighed, fondly. As much as she wanted to just climb into bed, Jon did take a quick hot shower to scrub off the day and makeup. Jon did collapse into bed after that, still feeling the contented buzz of alcohol and distortion.


End file.
